


Building Castles in the Air

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Bootcamp fic, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Liam is overwhelmed by his bootcamp roommate, who is loud and friendly and so totally up-front about what he wants out of this competition. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>"I plan on winning," Niall says, twenty seconds after introducing himself, slinging his duffel bag down on his bed. "Touring. Playing my guitar, you know. Selling albums. Maybe working with Justin Bieber, if I'm lucky."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Castles in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be a cute 3k niam fic and turned into a liam character study OOPS. i got 38 seconds into watching to build an ot5 home and then this happened (literally) (that's how it happened). woo! thanks are due to: [caitlin](http://sansacakes.tumblr.com), [bee](http://kingslayers.tumblr.com), and [stephanie](http://fannyann.tumblr.com) for encouraging me and looking over this as i wrote it. (extra thanks to stephanie for showing me the niam light) love you girls!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: even though i watched the bootcamp episodes of both the x factor and the xtra factor approximately 18 times each and read dare to dream twice over and added approximately three hundred views to all the videos of niall playing bieber on the steps outside the arena to make sure i was more or less getting everything about this correct, it's still absolutely a work of fiction.
> 
> also clarification i'm spelling zayn's name the way he spelled it during bootcamp For Accuracy(tm)

Liam is overwhelmed by his bootcamp roommate, who is loud and friendly and so totally up-front about what he wants out of this competition. 

"I plan on winning," Niall says, twenty seconds after introducing himself, slinging his duffel bag down on his bed. "Touring. Playing my guitar, you know. Selling albums. Maybe working with Justin Bieber, if I'm lucky."

"Oh," Liam says. "I – that sounds nice." He wants it too, wants it so badly that his tongue swells up under the weight of the words until he's practically choking on it, but he doesn't say anything. Niall already knows who he is, even came into the room saying 'so I'm living with Liam Payne!' Liam had got a lot of footage, back during his first try. Instead, lamely, he just sort of shrugs and crosses his arms tight against his chest. "Me too."

"Yeah," Niall says, and he grins, crooked teeth glinting in the yellow-y light of the room. "I reckon me and you are the two people who want this most in the entire competition." 

"Does that make you my biggest competition?" Liam asks, trying for a smile. He's pretty sure it comes out mostly as a grimace. 

"Not until halfway through the live shows," Niall says, confidently, running a hand through his bleach-blond hair until it's proper mussed. "Fancy seeing what we're up against?"

He holds his calloused hand out like a promise, so Liam takes it. His grip is warm and a little damp, which is how Liam learns that, for all his bravado, Niall is nervous too. So Liam squeezes slightly, tentatively, reassuringly, and ducks his head to hide his blush when Niall grins back at him and tugs him out of the room.

+++

Liam learns all about what Niall likes, and quickly, because Niall is not above announcing what he likes to everyone who will listen. He likes Justin Bieber, and having a laugh, and sneaking sips of his brother's pints. He likes Derby County, and stretching his arm out to tug mischievously on one of the girl's curls when she's deep in conversation with one of the older contestants, and food. He _loves_ food. It's the main topic of at least four of the conversations he has with other contestants, which Liam knows because Liam orbits Niall as Niall makes his way from person to person wandering the halls at the hotel that the X Factor has put them all up in for the duration of bootcamp, sticking close enough that he can be next to one of the few people he knows already, but far enough away that Niall doesn't get sick of him and ask him to shove off.

They find their way to dinner, eventually, which is full up of all the younger contestants – just about everyone eighteen and older has already left in search of drinks, it would seem – and the food turns to sawdust in Liam's mouth. He's been here before. He knows the drill. He _belongs_ here. And it's not just because, when it comes down to it, he really loves competitions. It's also because he's been practising ever since judge's houses two years ago, practising to exhaustion, and he _knows_ he's bloody good. This is going to be his year. He can feel it.

He's still totally petrified, though.

Niall flops down in the chair next to Liam and makes a mess pouring brown sauce and hot sauce over everything, talking loudly to Jenny, a girl from Ireland, about what it's like to be in London, at _bootcamp_. Liam just kind of smiles along to what Niall is saying when he feels someone bump into his side.

"Oh, sorry," he says, but when he twists around, it's Jade from two years ago, and Liam can feel a smile break out over his face for the first time since he and Niall left their room. "You're back," he says, inanely, and she nods at him, reaching across him for the pepper.

"You are too!" she says, brightly, nudging him gently. "How've you been for the past two years, then?"

"Busy practising," Liam says. "It's going to be my year, I can feel it." 

He's surprised by himself, honestly; he doesn't usually make a habit of saying those kinds of things out loud. But Niall is on his other side, mouth full of sausages and mash, laughing at something one of the lads at the end of the table has said, announcing to all and assorted that he's willing to teach them to harmonise to Baby by Justin Bieber if they want to learn, and it just – well. Usually that kind of posturing bothers Liam; it's the same sort of way that a lot of the kids at school talked around him, back when he was just starting boxing lessons, but Niall seems like a genuinely good guy with _loads_ of self-esteem, and it's just. It's really cool, coming from him. 

"Me too," Jade says, and she grins at Liam, showing all of her teeth. He's pretty sure she means it in a nice way, though. "Ready for tomorrow?"

Liam hopes so. He really desperately does. "Yes," he says, as earnestly as he can manage, and he even believes it when he says it. "I am."

+++

In bed that night, he tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep. He tries to be quiet, though, because Niall's breathing in the next bed over is slow and steady, and Liam doesn’t want to interrupt his sleep.

That is, until – "Liam?" Niall calls out – whispers, actually – from his bed.

"Sorry," Liam whispers back, forcing himself to stop shifting under his covers. "I'll be still, I promise."

"No," Niall says, a little louder now. "It's not that, it's just – you've been here before, yeah?"

"Yeah," Liam says, even though they've been over this already. "I mean, yeah, two years ago."

"So you know what to expect." Niall shifts in his bed, twisting to face Liam. "I mean, outside of what they show on the bootcamp episode cuts every year."

"I expect it's a bit different every year," Liam says, rolling onto his back, wedging his hands behind his head and letting his arms fall open as he stares through the darkness, trying to let the ceiling come into focus. "But singing, obviously."

"Obviously," Niall says, and he laughs a little, but it's a hushed laugh, a little anxious. "Just – what else?"

Niall is scared. Liam understands; Liam is scared, too. He rolls onto his side so that he's facing Niall. "The judges will gather us all together and tell us what we're singing," he says. "I don't know how they're going to divvy it up this year; it changes a lot. But we'll be in the Boy's category no matter what, probably, and we'll probably sing one of a couple songs. And then they'll make the first round of cuts."

"Right, right," Niall says. He doesn't go on to claim, again, that he's definitely going to make the first round of cuts. Liam thinks he understands. There's something about being in the quiet dark of the hotel room that makes him feel braver, in a certain way: brave enough to admit that he might not make it. Brave enough to keep that to himself. Niall is silent for a long time, so Liam is too. He's finally just relaxing enough to close his eyes again when Niall says, "Can you sleep?"

"Not really," Liam says, trying to keep his breathing steady. "You?"

"Nah," says Niall. He sits up in his bed, swings his legs over the edge. Liam can see his eyes glint in the scant light making its way through the curtains from the street. "Tell me – tell me about what you'll do when you and me are the winners of this competition."

They never pick two winners, Liam doesn’t point out. There's no way the two of them could both win this competition, no way they could both get the same record deal, do the same tours after the X Factor tour is completed. If they get that far. 

If Niall were one of Liam's friends from home, or one of his sisters, Liam would joke about how he'd win and Niall would be left running the merch table at his shows, and then he'd probably get hit in the arm for the joke. But he's only known Niall for all of five hours, so instead, he indulges Niall. It's surprisingly easy to do. "Well," he says. "Obviously if we both win, we'd have to tour together for a bit, make a big show of it." It's sad, almost, how warm he feels at the idea of touring _with_ someone else. It isn't what he's signed up for, but it would be so nice to bring a friend along with him. None of his friends back home are really into the singing thing – some have gone to his gigs when it's been convenient for them, but it's not like they don't have lives of their own. It's not like he'll be able to pay for them to tour with him just so that he has someone to talk to if he ever gets nervy. 

It's not like Niall would automatically be that friend, even if this absurd fantasy he's concocted ever came true, but it's nice to think of him as someone to – hm. Not share the stage with, necessarily, but to share the life. "We'd do a big tour here," he says. "Get massive enough to do Wembley Stadium, maybe, and – what's the big one in Ireland?"

"That'd be Croke Park," Niall says. Liam fancies he can hear the grin in Niall's voice.

"Yeah, that, and then we'll crack America and do Madison Square Garden and the Superbowl half-time show, and, I dunno, maybe even play for the Queen one day."

"I'll pass on that last one," Niall says, but he laughs, so Liam assumes he's joking. 

"Okay, just me, then," he says, easily enough. "And we'll get massively famous and massively rich and sing every single day and girls all over the place will fall in love with us." _And boys_ , he thinks, but he's not about to say anything about that when he's too scared to even insinuate that he might – that it's possible – that it might be okay, basically, if a boy were to fall in love with him – to his friends back home.

But Niall doesn't seem to have any such compunctions, because he takes an audibly deep breath, releases it, and says, "Boys too, probably." He pauses. "You never know."

"Probably," Liam agrees, biting down on a smile. 

"I like the way you think, Liam," Niall says, flopping back down on his bed. "Now we've just got to work out a way for both of us to win."

"I'll get right on it," Liam says, and he snuggles deeper under his covers and drifts off to sleep to the sound of Niall wondering out loud what sort of food they'll be given at lunch.

+++

Bootcamp is a lot of hurry-up-and-wait, as usual. There's the rush to get places on time, and then there's the sitting, and then there's the practising, and all the sitting about with all the other contestants in the big room when they've got down time, and then there's lunch. Liam is all set to rehearse Man in the Mirror in a loo in Wembley Arena through their lunch break, because what if it makes the difference between being put though and being sent home? But Niall finds him and drags him outside right when Liam is about to sneak off and find somewhere quiet.

"It's a gorgeous day outside," Niall says, shoving a hand through his hair. "Also, the food options are crap. Let's go to McDonalds."

"I was going to practise," Liam says, uncertainly, and Niall grins at him.

"What's the point of trying out for the X Factor if you're not going to have fun?" he asks, pragmatically.

"Winning would be fun," Liam says. He's serious, but Niall laughs at him. He bristles. "What?"

"I don’t disagree with you, mate," Niall says. "But maybe if you look like you're having the time of your life Simon and Louis'll see it as you having the X Factor."

He has a point there, but what sells Liam on Niall's argument, if he's entirely honest, is the fact that Niall called him _mate_. Liam doesn't get called mate that often, except maybe by Andy when Andy's working on him to sneak some of his mum's secret vodka stash into their orange squash with him. Liam always says yes to Andy, too, when he calls him mate, even though he can never actually put any of the vodka in his own squash. 

The triumphant grin Niall gets when Liam agrees to go to McDonalds with him makes it all worth it, anyway.

They wait in line behind a boy who Liam vaguely recognises as another contestant, and when they get to the counter, they order most of the entire menu between the two of them and carry it back to the steps in front of Wembley Arena, where Niall sits down in a crowd of contestants and gestures for Liam to join him. So Liam does, with trepidation, and he listens while Niall gets what seems to be the life story of everyone around them, speaking loudly and with a full mouth. 

There's something about Niall, something charismatic and good even though the way he acts would usually have Liam backing away slowly. Liam can't quite put a finger on it, so he thinks that maybe what Niall's got is the X Factor, and for a fierce, agonising second, he worries that Niall will sing better than him, because if he's any good at all Liam's got no doubt that Niall will make it to the boy's Judge's House. 

Liam hunches over his mcnuggets and chips, sopping everything through his chilli sauce, listening as Niall jokes with one of the girls about the songs they're practising, a hamburger in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other. He runs through Man In The Mirror mentally, making sure he remembers all the words, tapping his fingers against his knee as he does so. He's sure he's got this. He's going to smash it just like he did his first audition. Ruth, in an attempt to be helpful and reassuring, pointed out before he left for bootcamp that even if he messes up, he'll probably get through to the last day at least, even if it's just because he's a good story to tell. 

But he wants to get through on his own merits, is the thing.

"Tomorrow," Niall says, nudging Liam's leg with his toe. It takes Liam a moment to realise that Niall is directing the conversation at him, specifically. "We'll bring a guitar out here and do a bit of a singalong, yeah?"

Tomorrow. Liam likes the sound of that.

+++

Liam smashes Man in the Mirror. He's surrounded by other boys taking their turns singing it – and some of them are quite good, actually – but it's like the minute he steps forward and lifts his microphone to his lips, all of his anxiety floats away and it's only him and the music and the memory of Simon, smiling proudly at him in Birmingham after his _standing ovation_ after every other judge has voted him on, as he says "that's a massive, fat, almighty yes."

And it keeps feeling easy, like he can _do this_ , take this sense of triumph and ride it all the way through to Judge's Houses and on into the live shows. It feels easy up through Simon and Louis telling him he can stay another day, up through a very late dinner with some of the other contestants – Jade, who's been off doing a bit with Konnie and one of the other boys and some girls during her down time, and Niall, who's also got through (of course; and they found out standing next to each other, holding hands so tight it felt like Liam's fingers might pop right off), and, like, three of Niall's new friends. 

The nerves don't settle back in till he's back in the dark of his room, curtain wafting slightly in the breeze of the window they opened earlier because the night air is nice, Niall rustling around in his bed.

"Tell me about when we're famous," Liam says – daringly, because he doesn't want to admit that he's feeling nervous about tomorrow, but he still wants to feel reassured. 

Niall is quiet for so long that Liam almost thinks he's fallen asleep. But then he says, "We'll do a world stadium tour. Tickets will sell out in, like, a day. And both of us will put out music videos that get as many views as Bieber. Or Lady Gaga."

"You like Bieber, don't you?" Liam says, smiling at the thought of being _that_ famous of a singer. "That's about the tenth time you've mentioned him."

"Yeah," Niall says, a laugh in his voice, and then there's a very pregnant pause before he adds, "Reckon I could go gay for him, if I'm honest."

Liam can't be sure, but he thinks there might be a hint of a challenge in Niall's tone. But he doesn't know what to say. People don't just _admit_ that kind of thing, unless maybe they're fast girls. If Liam said as much to anyone back home, he's pretty sure he'd get slapped, or worse, ignored. 

And anyway, Liam's not – or, at least, Bieber isn't – well. "Dunno," Liam says, finally, when the silence starts to press down on him. It's surprisingly hard to swallow down on the 'mate' he wants to add, but like – he doesn't know how Niall would take Liam calling him mate. Liam doesn't use that word as easily as Niall seems to. It would probably show that he rarely uses it, somehow, if he said it. "Reckon Olly's a bit more my speed."

His stomach swoops and churns and for a second, he's worried that he'll be sick. But then Niall just hums and says, "Murs? I can see that."

Something unclenches inside of Liam, and for once, he doesn't feel the need to hasten to say anything about how he's not _actually_ \- well. _That_.

Instead, he changes the subject. "So, um," he says. "Did you do any kind of – practising? For this?"

"I mean," says Niall. "I've wanted this for my whole life, probably, so – yeah. I've done a bit of performing here and there, supported Lloyd Daniels once. Lots of stuff just for my friends. You?"

"Yeah, loads," Liam says, thinking of all the places his dad drove him, the countless weddings and talent nights and parties he sang and sang at, until singing in front of people felt natural and good. "Just a bunch of solo gigs here and there, you know."

Niall is quiet for a moment, and then he rustles in his bed. "Yeah," he says. "Reckon I do know."

Liam reckons he does know, too.

"So," he says, shifting a little bit to settle down in bed. "Tomorrow. Another day, another chance to go further." He pauses. "Or get sent home, I suppose."

"Nah," Niall says. "No chance of that. I watched your auditions two years ago, you know, and I heard you today. You're really good, mate. They're not going to send you home anytime soon."

"I hope so," Liam says, fervently. He hasn't heard Niall sing before, not yet, not outside of a big old practise room where everyone's singing all at once, because he popped out to use the loo when Niall's row had their chance at solo-singing in the group, but he feels as if it would be a bit rude to just not say anything nice back, so he clears his throat. "You'll get through too, of course."

"Why 'of course'?" Niall asks, and he sounds amused but there's a tremor in his voice. 

"Well," Liam says. "You’ve got – something. People like you. They like to surround you. I dunno what the X Factor is, exactly, but that sounds like what I imagine it is."

"Wow," Niall says. "Thanks, Liam. That's – do you really think so?"

Liam shrugs, even though Niall can't see it in the dark. "If I were judging this competition, I'd put you through," he says, fiercely, even though it's a very bold statement to make, especially about a guy he's known for all of thirty hours, a guy who is his _competition_ and who he's never even heard sing. "You can obviously sing; you've made it this far. So."

Niall sighs a little, and then he rolls over to the edge of his bed. "So basically we _will_ get through and go on that world tour together, yeah?" he says. "Try room service in, like, twenty different countries."

"I'd be shocked if we didn't," Liam says, as boldly as he's able, and for a fleeting instant, he even almost believes it. "We'll be on top of the world. Liam Payne and Niall Horan."

"Niall Horan and Liam Payne," Niall corrects, but he's laughing, and Liam lets himself smile. "We have to be alphabetical about it."

"We'll see," Liam says, and Niall rustles again. When Liam looks over, it takes a little while for him to pick out, in the dark of the room, that Niall is holding his hand out towards Liam's bed.

Liam stares at it a moment, until he's positive that it's not shadow. Niall isn't saying anything about his hand just _being there_ , he's just. Holding it halfway between their beds, which is a little perplexing until Liam realises that Niall probably wants him to reach back. Maybe to shake on their plans to take over pop music together. At least, that seems the most likely scenario.

So he takes a deep breath, because how can he promise something so impossible? But the way Niall _is_ seems impossible, too. Impossibly friendly. Impossibly cheerful. Impossibly _confident_ in a way that Liam has never been, or at least in a way that he hasn't been in a long time. Not since he was a kid. Not since he started coming home with bruises that were far bigger on his insides than his outsides.

Feeling rather ridiculous – because no matter how impossible Niall may be, no matter how _possible_ he makes everything seem, there's absolutely no way Niall can make sure the both of them end up on top by sheer force of will alone, and yet Liam still wants desperately to believe that he can – Liam scoots to the edge of his own bed and reaches his hand out towards Niall's. Their fingers bump quicker than he's expecting, and then Niall's twisting his wrist so his palm is sliding up to meet Liam's. 

Liam feels dizzy with the touch. He's not used to touches like this. Or, well. He's held hands with a girl or two before; he does all right with girls when he tries hard enough, so the mechanics of the way that Niall laces their fingers together isn't entirely foreign to him. But Liam can feel the callouses from Niall's guitar on the pads of his fingers as they slide over his knuckles, and Niall's hand is broader and stronger than that of any of the girls Liam's got to the hand-holding stage with before, and he holds on tighter than anyone Liam's ever held hands with, too. It's not like they didn't hold hands when they were waiting to hear if they got through to another day, but this is more deliberate, and that makes it different.

"We're going to smash it tomorrow," Niall says, in a tone more serious than Liam has ever heard him use before. "And the day after that, and then again at the Boy's house and on the live shows, too."

"First the X Factor," Liam says, trying to sound as serious as Niall does even though he's got laughter bubbling up inside of him at how wonderful and wonderfully ridiculous everything sounds right now. "And then the world!"

He squeezes Niall's hand, because it feels like the thing to do.

Niall squeezes right back.

+++

As it turns out, no one goes home the next day because the next day is dancing practise.

It's actually loads of fun. Liam doesn’t really know what he's doing, but he tries his best and he tries his best to convince himself that Simon wasn't lying when he said that they wouldn't send anybody away for not picking up the choreography, and he actually starts to pick up some of the moves. He thinks.

Not everyone has a good time; there's a boy called Zain who flat-out refuses to dance, and Liam winces inwardly when Simon calls out asking where he is. Liam doesn't know Zain, not really, not outside of just seeing him in passing at the McDonalds and in rehearsals and such, but he heard him sing briefly when they were practising Man in the Mirror and he's dead good. 

So maybe it's for the best that Zain's hid backstage during their turn to dance. Even if they aren't officially being judged on this, they're still probably being judged on this, at least a little bit. 

Liam feels really guilty about the brief flash of smugness that runs through the pit of his stomach when he sees Simon get up, so he focuses on Niall three rows ahead of him, still bopping away even though they've been given a breather while Simon is backstage. He watches the way Niall throws himself clumsily into his moves until he's thinking of them as kind of cute, instead of another potential leg up, and then Simon's back with Zain and the rest of Liam's uncharitable thoughts get replaced by the thrill of competition again.

He's still riding that rush of competition, as well as the fact that Simon confirmed they will _not_ be officially judged for their dance performance, when everyone is given a thirty minute break to relax before they're told the nature of the final challenge.

Niall goes outside, so Liam follows, nabbing a couple of bags of crisps from the food table in the corner of the room on his way out. He just – he really wants Niall to like him. Even if the plans they make in their dark of their room never pan out – and they _won't_ ; Liam can't let himself get trapped into thinking that touring the world with Niall is possible, and even if there were the slimmest chance they ever could do that, there's no guarantee that Niall won't suddenly realise precisely how boring Liam can be – he still wants to know that he has a friend among the competition when they both make it past Judge's Houses.

(There's no guarantee, but Liam likes to think that they'll both make it through to the Live Shows.)

By the time Liam shoves the crisps into his pockets and stops for a wee and follows Niall outside, Niall's got his guitar out and a crowd of people on the steps around him. Liam walks up and watches as Niall starts fingering out chords and strumming.

It takes him a moment to place the song, but when he catches on, he has to hide a smile because Niall is playing that one Bieber song – One Time – of _course_.

He goes to sit down next to Niall but hangs back at the last minute, because someone has got their mobile out, filming the way that Niall is rocking into the chords, tossing his head back as he sings the lyrics, loud and freely. 

He's got an interesting voice; that's the first thing Liam registers. There's a quality to it that's a little rough, a little intriguing. The second thing Liam notices is that the thing he's seen in Niall, the charisma that makes people gravitate toward him – it's still there when he sings, because people keep coming up behind Liam and moving around him to sit by Niall and pitch in when they know the words.

Liam stays back, opening up one of the bags of crisps and munching on them thoughtfully. He's fascinated by this _thing_ in Niall that draws people in, that makes them want to have a good time with him. Liam is pretty sure that he doesn't have that specific quality. He's technically skilled, he knows – he's one of the most adept singers he knows, and that's not just ego speaking, it's all the people his dad has driven him to meet in the past few years, and the fact that he got through to Simon's house last time because the judges couldn't let him go even though they initially sent him home. But the way Niall closes his eyes and thrusts his heart into his song in such a brazen and effortless way, the way everyone around them is just _gravitating_ to him, forming a little bubble of music around Niall and his guitar – well.

Liam isn't sure that he has that, and for a moment, he feels completely petrified. Because if that’s the X Factor, Liam may be well and truly fucked. Most of the competition is talent, yeah, but a lot of it is personality and popularity, and Niall has got that in abundance. 

And then Niall finishes the song and starts laughing and swearing in a way that has Liam blushing, but also feeling a little more settled about everything, because yeah. Liam _can_ come out on top in the next challenge, and Niall can, too, and it will all be alright. 

Niall jerks his head at Liam then, in an acknowledging sort of nod, and launches into Baby. Liam shoves the crisps back in his pocket and watches for a minute more, but then he can't resist the thrall that is Niall Horan singing, either, and he works his way around back behind him, sitting a step or so above, and adding some of the beatboxing he's been working at a little every night over the past few months in case he can use it for a bit of an edge in the competition, singing along with the chorus. Niall twists around as he transitions into the last verse and grins at Liam, and filled with the joy of singing with a bunch of people who love music almost as much as he does, Liam grabs Niall's shoulders as soon as he finishes and leans into him, laughing breathlessly as Niall pushes his guitar aside.

+++

"I can see the marquees now," Niall says, flopping down onto his back at the foot of Liam's bed. "Niall James Horan and Liam –"

Liam looks up from where he's sorting through his clothes to pick what to wear tomorrow. "James. Liam James Payne."

Niall laughs delightedly. "The James act!" he says. "James One and James Two."

"Bagsies James One," Liam says, immediately, pushing the shirts he's been trying to decide between to the side and turning to face Niall head-on. 

He's not entirely certain whether he's saying it because he thinks he's best or for fun until Niall looks at him with surprise, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "I'm the one who had the idea," he says, after a beat, lips quirking.

Liam grins back. He's about ninety-seven per cent certain now that he meant it in fun. "We can switch off," he says. "The James Lads."

"Brilliant," Niall says. "Two acts for the price of one."

"Or two," Liam says, still smiling. He takes a deep breath. It's good, feeling comfortable in his own skin around someone else at the competition. He can't quite forget that they _are_ each other's competition, that there's a chance, however slim, that only one of them will get through, but he can smile with Niall, can accept him as a friendly face in this sea of people who all want what Liam wants, maybe even as much as he wants it, too. "Or maybe one and a half."

"Sounds good," Niall says. He scrubs a hand through his hair, reaches out to poke Liam's knee. "So, do you know what song you'll be singing tomorrow?"

"I'm not one hundred per cent," Liam says. "But I'm thinking one of the Oasis songs on the list. You?"

"Still settling," Niall says. "I'm leaning towards the Oasis, too but I don’t know for sure yet."

"You'd sound good on that," says Liam, and Niall grins.

"You think?" he asks. "Really?"

"Really," Liam says, smiling. He can't be certain, but he thinks that Niall's cheeks pink up a bit when he says that, which – well. That would be nice, wouldn't it? It makes him feel like Niall respects him as a musical artist, which – it means a lot, in any case.

"Do you think that our styles are similar enough to merit our world tour?" Niall asks, tugging at Liam's jeans until Liam lies down on his back next to Niall, legs pressed together, dangling over the edge of the bed. Niall's t-shirt brushes against Liam's arm. The bright colour belies the roughness of the weave, or the knit, or whatever it is, but somehow it's not as unsettling as it could be. 

"I'm sure of it," Liam says. "The James Lads Tour will have wide pop appeal and sell out crowds of thousands. Maybe even ten thousand. Maybe even twenty."

"Maybe even thirty," Niall says, laughing. He nudges Liam's side gently.

"Thirty," Liam says, and he means to joke about how many that is, but he gets caught up imagining what it would be like to sell out to a crowd of thirty thousand people. "That sounds..." he pauses, trying to get his head back into the fantasy at hand. "Acceptable, I expect."

"Yeah," Niall says, laughing again. "It'll do. In a pinch."

"Exactly!" Liam says, and he starts to roll over but the back of his hand presses into Niall's leg as he shifts, and he freezes. He's got past the point where he worries that any of his friends will hit him if he accidentally touches them in a way they might see as gay, and the way Niall was talking the night before leads him to believe that Niall won’t smack him, either, but he's still not sure how the boy will react.

But Niall just pushes his leg against Liam's hand and turns in a little, staring at Liam once they're a little more face-on. 

"Sorry," Liam blurts, jerking his hand away and rolling to get up. "I didn't –"

"Liam, it's okay," Niall says, and he stretches out a little, filling the gap. "I don't bite."

"Sorry," Liam repeats, and he takes a deep breath as he sits up. "Think I might practise a bit."

"Want to take turns?" Niall offers, rolling over to the other side to reach for his guitar without even sitting up. He grabs the neck of it and rolls back, hauling it onto his stomach. "I can play a bit of backing music."

Liam isn't sure about this. He thinks maybe he should start stepping back from Niall, actually, because no matter how much he might like him – and he definitely really likes him – and no matter whether or not they both make it through to Live Shows and even onto the James Lads Tour together, it's still probably safer to have a contingency plan. 

He came here planning on going it alone, and no matter how lovely the idea of having someone to do all of this with may be, he needs to remember to bear in mind that it's just a beautiful fantasy.

He takes a deep breath, sighs, and says, "That sounds brilliant, actually. We can even do a bit of informal judging, if you like."

Niall grins at him.

In the end, Liam only gets about three hours of sleep, but he's so prepared for the bit of official practise he'll get before his final audition that he doesn't even mind. Anyway, Niall's just as tired and exhilarated as he is, and even though Liam can't quite shake the feeling that he's making a terrible mistake, letting himself open up so much to one guy who wants the exact same thing he does, it's still _so_ nice to be on exactly the same page as someone else.

+++

The day passes in a blur. Liam feels ill for most of it, ill with how much he _wants_ this, ill with the thought that, for the third time on this show, he might be told to try again later.

It's not that he doesn't think he can make it. He's fairly certain that he can, that he's good enough, that the years of his dad driving him around West Midlands for gigs and shows have absolutely paid off. It's just... he's learned his lesson, about expecting too much and watching it all fall to pieces right in front of him. He doesn't want to feel that way again. So he lets himself hope, but cautiously, cautiously, and practises everywhere he can, humming the tune when he's queuing up to get lunch, mouthing the words in between snatches of conversations with the cameramen and other contestants, tracing the words into the legs of his trousers when he's sat, snuck into the back of the arena to watch Niall's audition even though he's not supposed to be there until after he has his turn.

He forgets his lines, even, mixing up words while he's practising with Brian in one of the zillions of rooms in the arena's underbelly, and for a second, he's afraid that he might cry, but then he rallies and listens to Brian talk about how messing up is less offensive than _admitting_ to messing up. He flicks a glance at the camera and tries again and nails it, this time.

By the time he's called up to go and sing in front of the judges, he's settled into a sort of calm. He knows he sounds good, and he knows the words, and he knows that he can impress Simon. The others, too, of course, but Simon is who Liam is really focusing on here. He wants to prove that he's grown and got better since last time to more than just his mum and dad and sisters and tape recorder, but he _really, really_ wants to prove it to Simon. 

And then he's on stage, saying something or another about why this is so important to him, and the music is starting, and he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for just a moment and _sings_.

And then it's all out of his hands and he can't do anything but wait till the judges make their decision. 

It's an empty sort of feeling, knowing that you've done absolutely everything you can and now you've got no control over anything else that happens, and Liam sneaks off to the loos to stare at himself in the mirror for a bit to see if he looks any different.

He doesn't, of course, and he didn't really expect to, but it's still kind of shocking that his same old face with the same old brown eyes and same old flatironed hair brushing over the same old thick eyebrows. He's got a bit of damp under his arms from where he must have sweated during his performance, but it's something that he feels more than something that he can see in the mirror. There's a hint of a smile in the curve of his lips that he isn't doing on purpose, and that'll be the little bubble excitement he always feels when he's singing, no matter how stressful the situation may be.

Suddenly growing impatient with the boy he sees staring back at him, gaze even and unwavering, he closes his eyes and turns on the tap of the sink in front of him, lets the water run over his hands for a few minutes before splashing it on his face. 

The water shocks him back into his own skin. Liam hadn't realised he was so out of it, but now he can hear that there's someone – another boy, probably, the Over 25s are about to have their turn so none of them would be in here – humming in a stall behind him, and that the fluorescent lights are buzzing obnoxiously up above him.

He's done singing. He can do whatever he wants now. He can go into the arena and listen to the rest of his competition belting it out on stage, or he can go outside and sit in the watery late afternoon sun – if it hasn't started raining, at least – or he can go back to his and Niall's room and have a nap.

The guy in the stall behind him flips the lock and Liam startles and pushes his way out of the loo, because he's realised he doesn't want to see anyone else, not really, except for Niall, who has sung already and who might have a good idea for something relaxing they can do to keep their minds off finding out whether they've got through or not. He almost runs into a boy just outside of the door in his rush, a boy with a cheeky smile and bright blue eyes that he vaguely remembers as being very quiet during the group practises for Man in the Mirror save for when he was singing, and pauses briefly to apologise before dashing on out to find Niall.

Niall is sat, eyes closed and head tilted against a wall, in the main atrium of the arena. Liam feels this rash, wild urge to just flop over Niall's lap without alerting him to his presence, but he's really not sure how Niall would take that, so he holds himself back at the last moment and sits down next to him, quietly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, voice low.

Niall's eyes fly open just the same, and he twists around wildly for a moment before he spots Liam and settles back, smiling lazily. "Excited for tomorrow," he says, and his mouth quirks a little to the side, a little too deep to be a totally confident move.

Liam doesn’t mention it. "You think you did well, then?"

"I hope so," Niall breathes, and then he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it terribly. "Pretty sure, though. You were good, by the way."

"Cheers," Liam says, feeling a smile spread across his face. "You were well good, too."

Niall turns to him, eyes wide with shock. "You listened to me." Liam just shrugs, smiling a little, as Niall blinks at him. "But you were meant to be practising."

"I took a break," Liam says, smiling wider at the astonished way Niall is gaping at him. Liam isn't offended by Niall's surprise; he's made no secrets about how important practising is to him. But then, of course – "Had to support my fellow James Lad, didn't I?"

Niall is quiet for so long that Liam starts to second-guess saying that – he hadn't thought such a sudden and dramatic display of friendship would be a problem with Niall, but maybe he misjudged. But then Niall is launching himself sideways at Liam and enveloping Liam in a huge bear hug, shouting about what a terrible twosome they'll be, and even though he's shouting directly in Liam's ear, Liam can't stop smiling very nearly as wide as he did right after he got through to bootcamp.

+++

They get to their room very, very late that night, because everyone is rigid with anticipation and has loads of steam to blow off, which means that Liam and Niall have been in with a tangle of the younger girls and boys – the ones not quite old enough to go out for drinks with everyone else and not willing to risk trying anyway when they're being filmed for a television show – playing a cutthroat game of sardines throughout the halls.

Liam's last time at bootcamp wasn't like this at all. Liam's last time at bootcamp, he was terribly young and terribly shy and didn't have anyone like Niall to help him open up. He got on with a few of the other contestants then – Jade obviously being one of them, and it's really nice to see her here again, too – but it was nothing like the way that, well.

Niall is sprawling on Liam's bed right now, pulling his guitar up onto his belly and picking idle chords. "Today was _mad_ ," he says, strumming in an incredibly dissonant way that Liam can't quite bring himself to mind.

"Absolutely," Liam says, and he sighs a little, pulling off his blazer and sitting down on the edge of his bed, next to Niall. "Tomorrow will be even madder."

"You would know," Niall says. He rolls over onto his side and slides his guitar down to the floor, and then hauls himself up to lean over onto Liam. Liam freezes, as his friends back home aren't really the _leaning-on-each-other_ sort, and then forces himself to relax and shift a little closer to Niall. "What was it like?"

"Getting rejected?" Liam asks, because all he can think about his the way his stomach folded over double on itself, the way it took everything within him not to just like… die right there in front of all the judges when they told him he wasn't getting through to the next round.

"No," Niall says, yawning widely. "When you were called back and sent through to Judge's Houses."

"Like all my dreams were coming true," Liam says, seriously, and they're both quiet for a long moment. Niall's head is a steady pressure on Liam's shoulder, and after a long moment of hesitation, Liam moves his arm around to drape around Niall's neck – lightly, so that if Niall doesn't like it, he can yank it back right away.

Niall doesn't say anything about it, though, just settles his head more solidly on Liam's shoulders. "Well, you'll probably want to get ready to have that feeling again," he says. "You're definitely getting through, the performance you gave today."

"You really think so?" Liam asks. It's like his heart is in his throat, he's so choked up so suddenly. 

"Absolutely," Niall says, with such conviction that it makes Liam's stomach clench and roll in an altogether overwhelming way.

He wants to say something back, about how he's sure Niall will get through, too. And he's pretty sure Niall's got what it takes; his voice is interesting and his personality is _so_ very vibrant. He'd be absolutely the best kind of pop star, always laughing and joking with his fans and making every single one of them feel noticed and appreciated and he'd probably get millions of people to adore him. _It's a good thing we're going to tour together; he'll bring in buckets of people_ , Liam thinks, and then he freezes because that's just a castle in the air and it's not like it could _really_ happen.

Liam doesn't say any of that to Niall, though. Instead he just blurts, "I don't know anyone else like you."

Niall laughs, mouth mushed against Liam's t-shirt sleeve. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, definitely," Liam says. "Absolutely."

"How'm I different?"

 _You're nice_ , Liam almost says, but that would be a terribly sad thing to say, so he just clears his throat. "You're just – so friendly, and loud, and everyone likes you a lot and you're a lot of fun, and most people wouldn't – " _adopt me like you have. Put up with me the way you do. Act like they genuinely like me. Most of my friends didn't even come to my birthday party._

"Wouldn't what?" Niall asks, stifling another yawn. He rolls his head and when Liam twists his neck so he can glance over better, Niall is peering up at Liam's face.

"Be so nice," Liam says, and he presses a hand to his cheek because they feel hot, suddenly. His palms are sweaty and warm too, though, from running around the halls, and it's not much my way of relief when it comes down to it. " _I_ wouldn't have been so nice, if you weren't nice first. We're _competition_."

"No use winning this thing and achieving all your dreams if you're not having fun doing it," Niall says, shrugging, which is a really weird feeling when his shoulder is wedged somewhere between Liam's armpit and his elbow. 

"It's more than that, though," Liam says, earnestly, and then he falls silent because he's identified the queasy fluttering in his stomach. It's the same kind of feeling he used to get when Shannon would smile at just him and no one else from across the room at school.

But that's – it's not – well. Okay. It's not precisely _surprising_ , per se, but Liam's worked so hard at not getting these kind of feelings around boys. He _knows_ what happens to people who – he _knows_ how Andy and them feel about –

God. He can't even think the words. He can't even put the actual name to the reason he feels like his skin is buzzing where the collar of Niall's shirt is brushing against his bare arm without wanting to throw up and run away.

"Oh Liam," Niall says, grinning at Liam in a way that makes Liam wonder, briefly, if he's taking the piss. "I like you too."

"What?"

"You're funny," Niall says, shrugging. "You're incredibly talented and yeah, a bit quirky, but that's not bad." He pushes himself up straight, and Liam holds himself very still so that he doesn't try and lean into Niall once they're separated. "Girls will absolutely love you."

"Fans will absolutely love you too," Liam says, and he scoots a little bit further away from Niall, tangling his fingers in the duvet on the bed. "Our tour will be fantastic."

"We'll be best mates making music together," Niall says, cheerfully. "I bet all sorts of people will talk about what a bromance we have, it'll be like David Henrie and Gregg Sulkin except, you know. We'd be musicians, not actors."

Liam doesn't know who those people are, but he doesn't ask, in case they're people he should know about. "Yeah," he says, a little dumbly. 

"Or Ben Affleck and Matt Damon," Niall says, grinning.

Nothing really unclenches in Liam – he still feels like he's wound up tighter than his granddad's old watch – but he forces himself to laugh and smile back. "Will you be in a bromance with me, Niall?" It's a daring question – bromances are not really things that his friends are interested in having; they're a little too – well. Gay. A little too – yeah, that, _gay_ – for his friends to stomach. He's realising, though, that Niall isn't much like his friends back home at all.

"Gladly," Niall says, and he slings an arm around Liam's shoulders, and Liam can't help but gasp a little, because this is all – it's just really overwhelming. "We'll be famous for going out to dinner together in each city we play at, find the best pub for food everywhere we go."

"You can be my date to the Grammys," Liam says. "Or the Brits." 

Niall laughs, delightedly. "Maybe you'll be _mine_ ," he says. "We can have a lot of banter over whose music is better."

"Mine will, obviously," Liam says, and his palms start sweating again when he realises that he's almost entirely joking when he says that, because yikes. He just – he likes Niall a lot, basically.

"We'll see," Niall says, with an enigmatic smile. He pushes himself up off the bed, using his arm on Liam's shoulder for leverage. "Alright, James Two, give us a hug goodnight. Sake of our future bromance and all."

"We should probably start it now, actually," Liam says, as steadily as he can manage through how much he likes Niall, and how much he can't afford to like Niall _that way_. "If we've got a bromance people might vote both of us through to keep us together longer."

"Okay, give me a hug to celebrate the start of our bromance," Niall says. "I'm dead tired, come on."

"Right," Liam says, and he stands up and wraps his arms tight around Niall and tugs him in close to his chest and doesn't let go for a very long time.

"This time tomorrow," Niall whispers, and he doesn't complete the thought, so Liam squeezes even harder.

Niall laughs at that. "You're good at hugging," he says.

"I've got lots of practise," Liam says. "My mum, and my sisters, and my dog."

"What about your friends?" Niall asks. "That's who I hug most."

Liam stiffens a little. "They – hugging boys isn't really. You know. Proper."

Niall pulls back. "You're hugging me, though."

"There are some things I don't agree with my friends about," Liam says, but he says it very quietly.

"Oh," Niall says. "Oh. I see."

Liam doesn't know what Niall sees, and he's all set to pull free entirely and bury himself in his duvet and sheets and sleep as pointedly as possible, but then Niall lifts a hand up and runs a callused thumb over Liam's jaw, from his throat up to his cheek, and any thoughts Liam has about moving at all disappear completely. "Niall," he whispers, and Niall freezes.

"Is this okay?" he asks, running his thumb back down and scooting closer in. "If I –"

"For good luck?" Liam asks. "And the sake of our bromance?"

"And because neither of us are like your friends, to be honest," Niall says, so Liam nods, just once, and Niall leans in and presses his lips, which are closed tight, to Liam's mouth.

It's just a nudge of a kiss, but Liam's lips tingle anyway, and he leans into it, resting a hand on Niall's shoulder and gripping it tight just to steady himself. When Niall rocks back, breaking the kiss, they're both smiling. 

"I'm really glad I met you," Liam says, seriously, because he is and Niall should know that. "We really should, you know. Keep in touch after this, no matter what."

"Absolutely," Niall says. He's blushing a little. It's cute. And thinking of a blushing boy as 'cute' is – well. It's not something that Liam _does_ , as a rule, but then again, he also doesn't let boys kiss him and he doesn't kiss them back, and he doesn’t open up to strangers the way he has with Niall, and he absolutely doesn't collaborate with his competition. 

So maybe he's trying new things. Nicola will be proud.

(He's almost asleep when he hears Niall murmur, "I'm glad I met you too, you know.")

+++

This is what it feels like to get rejected for a third time:

Liam digs his fingernails into his palm hard enough that he wouldn't be surprised if he broke skin while he waits to hear his name called for Judge's Houses. There's four names left to be read, then three, then two.

Then one, and neither he nor Niall have been mentioned at all, and god, Liam absolutely wants this but he'll be gutted if he gets it at Niall's expense.

And then the name is read, and it's not his and his world comes crashing down around him. It's all Liam can do to keep from collapsing, literally, and he rushes off the stage, trying to hide his tears, but Dermot pulls him in for a hug and the camera gets it and then they want him to talk about how he _feels_ , and he doesn't know how to articulate the fact that he's worked for this _every day_ for _years_ and it still wasn't enough and he knows, he _knows_ , that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. They gave him a second chance last year. He won't be getting one this year.

He shuffles back to where he's left his stuff, and if he bumps into people on the way, well. He doesn't know it. He can't see anything through the haze of tears in his eyes except for the look on Simon's face when Liam Payne was not called to go on to the boy's house. 

Niall is probably very sad somewhere too, right now, probably almost as stricken and hurt as Liam is, and Liam would go to him but he _can't_ , can't face anyone when he knows that if he so much as looks at someone else's face he'll probably break down and never be okay again. 

He'll try again next year; of course he will, and he'll keep trying till he makes it, but now instead of singing his heart out as long as Britain will let him, he'll go home and fill out a job application for the factory and yeah, it will be nice to be with his dad and make some money, but – it's not _singing_. It's not –

"Liam Payne?"

The voice is unfamiliar, but insistent, so Liam rubs at his eyes with his sleeves and blinks until the world draws into focus around him. There are people in the room, moving around, living their lives. Some of them are crying. No one in this room is smiling; this is a room full of rejects. But some of them aren't crying. Some people just look disappointed, or resolved, or – 

He's not the only one who's sad, but he can't help but think that he's the only one who feels precisely this way, always coming so close again and again but never quite reaching what he's aiming for. 

Maybe he's just not good enough.

"Liam Pay – oh, there you are." It's a woman, dark hair twisted up with a chopstick thrust through it. "Come here, they've got an announcement to make." And she draws him into a crowd of contestants, staring at a person with a clipboard.

But it isn't –

It can't be –

Luck just doesn't work that way.

But then the person with the clipboard is saying the judges want to see some people back on stage, and another list of names gets read, and this time – this time, one of the names is Niall Horan.

One of the names is Liam Payne.

Liam stumbles forward, following after Zain and the boy that Jade did her Xtra Factor bit with – Harry, apparently – and the boy from outside the loo – Louis? – and Niall, brushing a hand against the hem of Niall's shirt deliberately as he does so, just to check that he can still feel the rough weave of Niall's top, so that he knows that he's here and not dreaming. 

He can't even take in what the judges are saying, really, except for "too talented to let go of." That phrase ricochets around in his brain, bumping and growing and swelling until Nicole says something about putting them into a group.

Someone – at this point, Liam's brain is too much white noise, buzzing with _second chance second chance second chance_ fourth _chance_ to register who – asks them if they want this opportunity, to think long and hard about it.

And the thing is, Liam doesn’t know.

He's been singing and doing gigs all around West Midlands for two years now, everything from booking weddings and parties to just doing bloody _karaoke_ whenever he can, and he's been getting lessons and he knows he's good. He _knows_ he's got what it takes to make it. He's got all these plans for his solo career, rising up in the ranks of famous pop stars and singing for his _job_ and his _livelihood_ , doing what he loves forever, on a permanent basis on a much, much bigger scale than the garden parties he's so used to. He's got it all worked out, how many albums he wants to put out before he starts collaborating, what kinds of songs he wants to sing – 

He's never made any plans to do anything like this in a group, is the thing, and if he goes with the group and it doesn't work out, it could ruin his career before it even starts.

Harry has straightened up and he's gesturing at each of the other boys, raising his eyebrows until they nod _yes_ to being put in a group. And then he gets to Liam.

Liam doesn't know what to do.

He looks up, casting about quickly, desperately, for any kind of sign. This would mean going through to Judge's houses – at this point, he's pretty positive that's what it means – but at what cost?

And then his eyes land on Niall. Niall, whose face is still blotchy with tears, whose eyes are still shiny. Niall, who talked about touring with Liam every night in the dark of their room, two solo acts traveling together for a little good company.

Four nights crafting fantasies with a boy he's never met before this very week isn't enough to _know_ , for sure, whether this is a good idea. He's actually fairly certain basing his decision off those four nights is a terrible plan. But the fantasy was so, so lovely. Like, his career could fall to pieces if going through with a group doesn't work out, but.

But there's a chance it could work out, and what if – what if the James Lads could be an _actual thing_ , singing with three other boys who may or may not be James Lads, doing all the stuff that he and Niall talked about in the dark of their room? It could be so _wonderful_.

Before he even knows what he's doing, he nods at Harry, gaze still on Niall, who is watching him carefully through his reddened eyes.

"We'd like to take this opportunity," Harry says, and Liam lets out a long, shuddery breath he didn't realise he was holding and lets himself be pulled into a giant group hug.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~~The Beginning~~~~
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com) | [tumblr thread](http://dulosiswrites.tumblr.com/post/58766596995/fic-building-castles-in-the-air-niam-1d)


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